


Memoriam

by Tah the Trickster (TahTheTrickster)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Flash Fic, Inspired by Steven Universe, Post-Talon Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Pre-Talon Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 04:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10482096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TahTheTrickster/pseuds/Tah%20the%20Trickster
Summary: "Mon ange? Are you alright?"The nickname seemed to snap her out of her reverie. Angela wordlessly crushed out the remainder of her cigarette in the nearby ashtray and wrapped her arms about herself. "God," she said softly, laughing bitterly. "You even sound like her."





	

When Widowmaker woke in the dark of the night, it was to the lingering scent of cigarette smoke and a soft, careful hand still absently toying with a dark lock of her hair. Widowmaker rolled over, resting her head in Angela's lap to peer up at her. She looked in that instant more tired than Widowmaker had ever seen her—blue eyes dulled, set into dark circles, exhaustion etched into her expression, lit cigarette resting listlessly between soft lips...

"Angela?" Widowmaker murmured, voice low as if to preserve the funereal silence of the bedroom. She reached up to catch Angela's wandering hand by the wrist, pressing a soft kiss to the palm of her hand. Soft blue eyes blinked twice and fell down to meet gold. She said nothing. That in itself was more concerning than anything else. Widowmaker pushed herself into a seated position in a single fluid motion, cocking her head at Angela. "Mon ange? Are you alright?"

The nickname seemed to snap her out of her reverie. Angela wordlessly crushed out the remainder of her cigarette in the nearby ashtray and wrapped her arms about herself. "God," she said softly, laughing bitterly. "You even _sound_ like her."

Widowmaker blinked slowly and drew her legs up under herself.

Angela's fingers ghosted over the soft, navy cotton sheets, silent for a long moment. "Do you remember the last time we were here together?" she asked. Her voice was small. Resigned. Her fingers slowly curled shut like a dying spider's, fisting in the sheets beneath her hand. "We were... _right_ here..." Those soft blue eyes flickered over to Widowmaker's, studying for a moment. "I wonder sometimes if you have any of her memories locked away somewhere... Do you remember? It was right here, almost ten years ago."

She remained silent.

"You'd just told me you loved me then," Angela went on, voice distant and gaze even farther gone. "We'd been lying here together..." Her hand twitched against the sheets, imperceptible. Widowmaker hesitated for a moment before reaching for it, clasping Angela's too-warm hand in her cold grasp. Angela's eyes didn't clear. "You'd been touching and kissing my wings... gentle, like you always were..." A shadow of a smile passed over her face. "I'd tried to tell you that you weren't, that it was a bad idea, that you were _married,_ but..." The chuckle that trembled in her throat was watery. "Well. You never let something so minor as _facts_ keep you from what you wanted." Widowmaker nearly smiled.

The cool pass of a cyanotic thumb brushing fondly over her knuckles brought focus back to Angela's eyes, and she finally looked up properly. Widowmaker was simply watching her, fascinated, enraptured. "You loved her, too, then," Widowmaker realized, cocking her head. Her hair spilled gracefully over her shoulder as ink from a well.

"I did," Angela agreed, vague smile dashed out in an instant, replaced with a haunted hollowness. "I did. I do." A pale hand passed over her face, grinding rough into her eyes and brushing her hair impatiently from her face. "Fuck." She gave a bitter chuckle and shook her head. "I suppose facts didn't keep me from what _I_ wanted _either_." Her eyes burned. Angela could only imagine how pathetic this had to look from the outside.

"Chérie." The word was soft, questioning.

Angela grinned, or maybe snarled, teeth bared. Her shoulders shook. "...I gave up so much for Amélie," she whispered. "I would've given up so much more. And now all of it's just..." She made a vague gesture with her free hand. " _Gone_ . Forever. Just like her. You—I mean, Widowmaker— _you're_ still here, but..." She trailed off. There was a noticeable sheen on her soft blue eyes. She chuckled, or at least went through the motions for it. "You're... not her. I know that. I know. I _know._ "

There was silence for a long moment, Angela staring blankly at the duvet and clutching Widowmaker's offered hand like a lifeline. Her breaths trembled.

" _Pathetic,_ " Angela finally whispered, choking out something like a laugh. She scrubbed at her damp eyes with the heel of her hand again. " _God_ ... Sometimes I wonder if there's... any part of her still in you. If she can see me through your eyes." She shuddered, whimpering in something like dismay. "...God, what _would_ she think of me now..."

Gilded eyes blinked only once. "...Well." The contact was unexpected, and Angela froze outright at the too-familiar sensation of Widowmaker wrapping an arm about her waist, tugging her close into a tight, grounding hug, Angela's head tucked securely under Widowmaker's chin. Her voice was low and soft, and had Angela not been nuzzled against her throat she wasn't sure she'd have caught it at all. "Well..." Widowmaker repeated, haltingly, hesitantly. "... _I_ think you rather wonderful."

Blue eyes went wide only briefly and then clenched shut, tears flowing freely, the dam shattered in an instant, Widowmaker's embrace tightening sharply, and for the first time in a decade Angela allowed herself to sob into someone's shoulder.


End file.
